Not only do the bandits slaughter their livestock, they also cause a herd of wild boars to stampede through the village. Itza’s little sister is almost hurt, but Crex, a former bandit, saves her at great peril to himself.

She left Bastia to tend to Crex and wait for the doctor to come, while she walked about the village, seeing the damage and helping where she could. Many of the buildings were uninhabitable and about a dozen people wounded, half that dead. Elveric might not move against them personally, but he was doing all he could to get even. There had to be a way to stop him.

One of the other ex-bandits approached her as she sat on a bench outside the tavern, a tankard of ale at her elbow, untouched. “Miss, if I may?”

She nodded and he sat.

“My name’s Vilfort, Miss. Crex is me cousin though we be closer than brothers. I hear he saved yer little sister.”

“Yes, he broke his arm, but I’ve seen to it.” She took an absent sip of her ale, making a face at the bittersweet flavor.

“Miss, Elveric won’t stop til he crushes this place. He’s a heartless bastard, pardon me saying. Like Crex told yer, he wants to make ye pay for making mockery of ‘im. He’ll not stop till he kills ya all one way or another. We was given the choice of watching ‘im kill our families or join up, we made the best we knew how to save em. Nothing’ll make us happier than to see him pay for that in spades.”

“We’re not an army, we can’t stand up against a man like him and the band he leads.”

“Ye do what ye should ha’ done before, Miss. Ye call him out to fight ye, only this time, you kill the sorry bastard.”

Itza cringed. It was one thing to kill a man in a battle, it was quite another to duel him and take his life. He’d kill her in a trice, he had no such compunction. It looked like her only way to solve their dilemma, they could not withstand a pitched battle.

“We could call on other villages to help us.”

Vilfort shook his head. “Ye’d have a right mess on your hands if ye did that. Then they all are targets too. He’ll be out rounding up those as run off and recruiting more as he did us. He’ll come back here stronger than he was and with blood in his eye. Nothing’ll stop him then, mark my words.”

Itza eyed him speculatively. It had occurred to her that this man could still be working for Elveric. They all could and they had taken them in like friends. Was he a wolf disguised as a lamb? He was pushing single combat and warning off calling for help. Although she admired Crex, she did not trust Vilfort. She gazed into his eyes and he would not meet her stare.

“Why do you really tell me this? Don’t tell me it’s for our good, because I don’t believe you. He wants you to do this, doesn’t he?”

His face crumbled in agony. “He’s got my son, and says he’ll kill him if I don’t help out!”

“Have you seen the boy? You know he’s alive?”

He nodded sadly. “Saw him last night and spoke with him. He’s a little ‘un, Miss, of an age with yer sister.”

Now she was hearing the truth. “Do you honestly think this is the best tactic? For me to fight him again?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know no more, Miss. Could be it’s best for all but ye’ve no guarantee he’ll keep his word even if you kill him. He could have his men attack soon as he goes down.

He’s a snake!”

She waited a few minutes, gazing into the distance, toward the hill where her parents were buried. This was the most difficult decision she had made in her life as head woman. It was not one she made lightly. If she could save the lives of her family by fighting Elveric again, she’d do it. What Vilfort said was true, she had no guarantee, but she might be able to weigh the odds in her favor.

“Tell him we’ve spoken and I’m thinking about it. I’ll consider doing as he wants.”

Vilfort looked hopeful.

“But, if you betray us, I’ll see to it that not only you die, but your son as well. If you think I can’t make that happen, you are quite wrong.”

Vilfort blanched. “I’ll see what I can do, Miss.”

“Before I agree, I want to see the boy well and whole. If any harm comes to him, the deal is off.”

Elveric thinks he has found a loophole in the deal. He doesn’t come against them directly, but he kills their livestock, figuring to starve them out. Itza has her own doubts about letting him live, but she is a woman of her word. Unless Elveric violates their agreement directly, she hopes to honor it.

The men were already gathering up the dead animals, lining them up for dressing as the women set up cook pots, brine barrels and smoke racks. It wasn’t going to be a happy day, but it would be a busy one. Even the children would work.

They were just setting up the smoke houses, stoking them with hardwood for a slow, long burn, when they heard it; the rumble of hooves. What was making the racket? They could not imagine what it might be. Terrified mothers grabbed their children, running for the village hall in the center of town, for it was the sturdiest structure.

Moments later, the men gathered around Itza casting curious, fearful glances at her and one another as the rumbling grew louder. Suddenly, they burst from the trees and bushes to the northwest of town! Dozens of volfboars, large, wild pigs. Usually docile beasts, they could be formidable and dangerous when angry. Something had them in a stampede and they would not stop until they destroyed all in their path.

“Take cover!”

Itza and the men roared to the women and children who were left, but the boars were upon them, goring and trampling anyone in their path. Children fell, battered to death, as their mothers watched.

“Itza!” she heard someone call her name and saw Bastia shouting to her from their home. It was in the center of the stampeding beasts, but Bastia, focused on something else, had not yet seen them.

“Bastia! Go in, bar the door!” But her sister could not hear her. Instead, she finally noticed the wild boars only a few yards away and froze in terror, door wide open, screaming and terrified.

Itza ran as fast as she could, but already she knew she was too late. The lead boar was nearly to her front steps and Bastia had not moved.

“Bastia! Go inside! Someone, please! Save her! Bastia!”

A man burst through the back of the house, grabbed Bastia and dragged her inside, slamming the door in the boar’s face. Startled, it hesitated for a moment, then battered against the door in anger. The rest of the wild beasts were running around the house on both sides, their momentum slowed slightly, but still a frightening adversary. The house shook with their passing, the porch groaned and fell as the animals flung themselves one after another toward the front door. Thankfully, it held.

After what felt like hours, the animals stopped running and either wandered around town or out into the woods again. Itza knew it was another warning to them that Elveric was still around; angry and vengeful.

“What will stop this?” Itza cried, looking at the death and devastation around them. “What does he want?”

No one answered her, she had not really expected it. The door to her home opened and a very shaken looking Bastia walked onto the porch, stumbled over a broken step and fell on the ground. Itza was at her side in a moment, checking her for wounds.

“Are you all right? What happened? Who saved you?”

She looked up to see Crex standing in the door, his arm bleeding freely onto the porch. Leaving Bastia, she leaped lightly next to him, taking his arm gently in her hands. She could see at a glance that it was not only broken, but the skin was ripped away, exposing muscle and bone.

“Sit,” she told him firmly, but he needed little coaxing, his face pale and his knees weak.

Bastia got a basin of warm water and some soft cloths for cleaning and then ran for the doctor to set his arm for him. She was back in a flash without the doctor.

“He’s busy tending the wounded and says he can’t come yet awhile. He said you can manage yourself, he has faith in you.”

“I’ve never set an arm before,” Itza said, “I don’t know what to do.”

“I do,” Crex told her through clenched teeth. “You just pull my arm till you see the bones line up and pop it back in place. With the skin like that, you should see it well enough.” He grimaced, breathing in short, sharp gasps.

“You hold me, little one and brace yourself, for I’ll likely fall into a faint. Arm setting ain’t pretty and it hurts neigh like being gored, but it’s over quick.”

He nodded at Itza, who took firm hold of his arm and pulled until she saw the bones slide back into place. She released with a sigh and saw Crex slump to the floor. She braced and bound his arm. There was nothing she could do for the skin but soak some bandages in a healing mixture and lay them gently over the wound until the doctor could look at it.

I thought I had posted these links already, but I can’t find them, so I’m assuming I didn’t. If I did, well, here they are again. A Little White Lie is a Lone Wolf Tale, set in the distant future. Lone Wolf begins in the year 3032, when Wil is a old man, though he doesn’t look it. This story takes place about 40 years earlier.

Not everyone agrees with Itza’s mercy. In not killing Elveric, they fear that they have made a very powerful enemy. Itza stands by her decision, honoring the deal.

“Mistake, that was! You’ll see!” An old woman called to Itza as she turned to walk back to her house.

Uncle Brev walked up next to her, taking her arm. “You did well, little one. That was some fight. My heart beat wildly there for awhile. I thought he might actually take you.”

“Had he been himself and not injured, it might have turned out differently. I am ashamed, I took unfair advantage of his wound to beat him.”

“When you fight for your life and all you hold dear, there is no unfair advantage. He’d have killed you and not thought twice about it, like as not.”

“You did great, Itza!” Her brother ran up next to her, taking her hand and gazing with affection and pride into her eyes.

Where Itza was a light golden color, Orris was a deep russet. Bastia was the most beautiful of them all; pure white with brilliant blue eyes. Uncle Brev was striped like a tiger in bands of black and brown with a white blaze on his powerful chest.

Looking at her family, Itza’s heart filled with pride. She knew she had done the right thing, for their safety and that of her village were the most important things in her life. She could not have watched them die at the hands of the bandits.

“Come, it’s dinner, you three!” Brev’s wife Anasafe, their mother’s sister, called from the house. “Wash up, then! You’re filthy, lass, have you been playing in the dirt?”

Brev and Itza threw back their heads, laughing heartily. Orris and Bastia giggled and danced in circles around their aunt.

“Trust you, Ana, to be the one person in the village not to know what’s just transpired. Our Itza has saved us all!”

“That well may be, Brev, but she’s still filthy! Go wash, I tell you! Dinner’s like to be cold as stone already!”

Laughing and chatting happily, they went to the kitchen and washed their hands and faces. After dinner, a small group of men, including the bandit Crex and some of his friends, stopped by to see Itza and her uncle.

“I’d advise ye to post guards this night, miss,” Crex cautioned. “Elveric’s right mad. He’ll want yer hide and there’s no doubt.” The others nodded their agreement. “He’s got pride and a temper. To be shown up by a little mite of a thing like ye be, he’s in a tizzy.”

“I’ll take care of that, Crex,” Brev told him. “There’s a few of us used to serve in the militia, we’ve not forgotten all we knew.”

“The boys and me will be keeping a weather eye as well. We’ve no love lost betwixt Elveric and us, mark my words. Well, night, miss, sir.” They bobbed their heads in brief respect and left to different ends of the village.

Brev set out right after them and saw to guards. Itza decided to call it an early night and went to her bed, falling instantly asleep.

Itza sat up in bed, a scream rending the peaceful night. It had been outside, not one of her people, more like an animal. She heard nothing else, but in a moment several people were moving around outside. She heard snatches of conversation. Dressing quickly, she grabbed her father’s armor and threw it on. The stiff leather was far too big, but it made her feel better wearing it. His sword hung on the wall. Itza had never used it before, but she cleaned and sharpened it regularly. She belted it on as she dashed out of the house, looking around. All seemed quiet except over by the animal pens.

Running over quickly, she saw what the trouble was. All the animals in the pen had their throats cut. The scream she’d heard was the dying cry of their sheep. They had no livestock left. If Elveric had wanted them to die, why didn’t he attack them outright and not make them slowly die from lack of food? True, the meat could be salvaged, smoked and stored, but no longer had they wool to trade. She hung her head sadly, knowing this was her fault.

“So he wants it this way, does he?” Brev said solemnly. “You should have killed him when you had the chance,” he told Itza. “It’s the only thing a man like him understands.”

From the beginning, the fight is in Itza’s favor. She is smaller, but faster than Elveric. He’s been injured recently, something she uses to her advantage. Once he is down on the ground, the marshals stop the fight.

The marshals walked over, waiting for his decision. “She is in her rights to kill you, sir,” his man pointed out needlessly. “She offers you a chance to yield, do you accept?”

Elveric looked from Itza to each of the marshals and back at the tip of the staff. “I yield,” he croaked.

“What’s to prevent you killing me as soon as they do?” He was angry and it made him bold.

“My word as head woman of this village,” she spoke simply.

He spat at her feet, anger making him stupid. He swatted aside her hand and pulled himself painfully and slowly up, using his staff for support. “Your word?” he bellowed, mere inches from her face. “What use is your word? And what is to prevent me and mine from coming back here and taking what we want another day?”

“Your word.”

“You did promise, boss, to go away….” Crex said.

Elveric smacked the bandit with the back of his big knuckled hand. “Shut up, you! I’m still in charge here and I say we take what we want from these folk and burn the village to the ground!”

His men made no move to do as told. Instead, they took a few steps away from the ring. Some dropped their weapons, backing completely away from Elveric and the villagers.

“You promised,” Itza told him. “How many of your men will follow you now that you’ve been bested by me?”

Elveric glared at Itza, then looked at his men, realizing she was right. They would not follow him against these people and might not follow him anymore at all. He’d lost more than he’d bargained for.

“Very well,” he yelled, spittle flying from his lips. “Very well, we leave this village alone this time!”

“Forever,” Itza prompted. “You leave us in peace for all time. In fact, you can tell any other marauders to pass us by, for all who come shall receive the same treatment you did. However,” she raised her voice loudly, turning in a slow circle, facing his men, “tell anyone you meet that though today I spared the life of this man, I shall kill anyone who disturbs our peace. Is there a man among you who disbelieves me? If so, let him come forward, and I shall prove my veracity!”

No one moved nor did they speak. Instead, the bandits bowed to her with respect and laid their weapons at her feet. Some cut and ran as soon as they could, others walked quietly away, standing a respectful distance, waiting for their boss. Others did neither, but waited patiently for the rest to depart before approaching Itza. One of these was the fellow who had acted as marshal.

“Miss, I beg yer pardon,” he said politely. “But it be rather obvious my boss will no longer have me. Not that I can blame him, but twould make me a proud man indeed if you would accept me to join your band.”

“I’ve not got a band, fellow. I have a village of farmers, if you wish to stay in that capacity, then you are welcome.”

“That’d do me fine, miss.”

Grinning happily, he joined the old farmer for a drink in the tavern. Many of the village men followed him. Some stayed protectively around Itza until the bandits dribbled away into the woods or across the fields.

When Elveric and the others had gone, the handful of men approached Itza, bowing as if to a queen. “Miss,” their self-appointed spokesman said to her. “We’d be proud as can be if you’d allow us to stay as Crex has done. It’s been in me own mind for some time that this bandit life no longer suited me. You’d find us hard workers and ready to help out any way we can to defend your village here, for it’s a fair and pretty place. Will ye have us?”

Itza looked at her brother, uncle and sister for confirmation. All of them gave a slight nod of acceptance.

“You are welcome here, fellows. See you work hard and act right and you’ll find us fair and honest folk. Mistreat this trust we give you and it will be your heads on a pike. You accept these conditions?”

The spokesman looked around at his comrades. They all nodded happily.

“Aye, Miss. Me and the boys like that fine.”

They followed their comrade into the tavern, bowing and nodding happily as they went.

Itza watched them closely, looking for signs of betrayal or subterfuge. She found nothing out of the ordinary. They were what they said, men who were tired of life on the road and wanted a place to settle down. She smiled and looked around at her people. Some were smiling, others looked incredibly puzzled, still more were frowning after the bandits.